According to the newspapers he’d been acquitted.
So what? She’d spent her entire life loving a stranger. It was glaringly obvious that she didn’t know Michael at all. And as for Stella—she realized that’s why Stella had always been so cold toward her. Growing up, she’d thought it was just the way her mother was, but obviously Stella had never loved her.
It made her so sad. She felt completely disoriented, like an orphan with nowhere to go.
And then, like a light in the darkness, Jake Sica, the guy she’d met in L.A., came into town. And this time he was free, with no romantic entanglements.
They spent an incredible week together holed up in her apartment, until he had to take off for an assignment in Europe.
Being involved with Jake made her feel good again. She needed someone who cared about her, because Michael sure as hell didn’t.
A few days after Jake left, Michael phoned her. She really didn’t want to talk to him. Not yet. She had too much information to process.
“I have something important to tell you,” he said.
“What?” she answered coldly.
“It’s about Stella,” he said.
Like she could care about Stella, although she was planning on going to see her when she could summon the mental strength to do so.
“Go ahead,” she said wearily.
“Stella’s dead,” Michael said. A long beat. “The funeral’s tomorrow. I’d like you to be there.”
Stella’s funeral was a somber affair. Jamie and Peter drove Madison to Connecticut and stayed by her side, looking out for her.
As soon as she arrived at the house, she attempted to comfort Michael—not that he deserved it—but she felt she should make an effort in view of the tragic circumstances.
He seemed quite calm and collected, not in need of her comfort at all.
At the reception she spoke to Stella’s best friend, Warner, a woman she’d known since she was a child. When she told Warner that Michael had revealed the truth about her relationship to Stella, Warner was shocked. “I never thought he’d tell you.”
“He did, and I was hoping Stella could explain. Only, now that she’s gone . . .”
“It’s such a tragedy,” Warner sighed, tears in her eyes. “Stella was my best friend for over thirty years.”
“I know,” Madison said. “Can I call you? I have so many unanswered questions I was hoping Stella could help me with. Maybe you can answer some of them for me.”
Warner nodded. “Call me anytime.”
Back in New York, Kimm Florian was waiting with more news. She informed Madison that she’d discovered that her real mother, Beth, had a twin sister, Catherine. And she’d tracked Catherine down to Miami.
Madison decided to fly to Miami and see what she could find out.
The detectives working Stella and her boyfriend’s murder case came to question Michael several times. Unfortunately he had no alibi for the night the murders had taken place. He’d been home alone.
They questioned him endlessly until he finally called in his lawyer, which he realized he should’ve done immediately. He had an uneasy feeling about what was taking place—especially when he discovered one of his guns was missing.
He had no doubt the murders were Bone and Mamie’s work. But why? If they were planning on implicating him, why hadn’t they set a trap like they had with Beth’s murder?
He had to do something about Bone and Mamie. The time had come.
He called his old pal Gus, in L.A., and began making plans.
An eye for an eye.
A tooth for a tooth.
A fucking bullet for a fucking bullet.
Then a few days later he got the call he’d been expecting. Mamie. Angry and vengeful.
“Mikey,” she said sweetly. “It’s me, Mamie. I thought you should know that it was your gun that killed your wife and her boyfriend. Isn’t that interesting? So get me my money, or the cops get your gun. Do it soon, Mikey, or you’ll be lookin’ at the rest of your miserable life behind bars.”
Michael got early word of his imminent arrest. It paid to have friends in the right places.
By the time the police arrived at his house he was long gone.
Destination Los Angeles.
But first he had to make a side trip to Las Vegas. Dani was his main priority. He’d neglected her, and right now he needed to be with her, if only for a few hours.
He knew she was probably mad at him for being on the missing list; however, very soon he would make up for everything.
Wednesday, July 11, 2001
1:00 A.M.
You got somethin’ for me?” the gunman said, leaning forward to talk to the man in the front passenger seat of the Cadillac.
“Sure, dude,” the man said, groping in his pocket.
Madison sat in silence as the gunman reached over, grabbed a handful of pills, and crammed them in his mouth.
Nice. Like he isn’t stoned enough, she thought.
“Is this a ransom deal?” she asked wearily. “ ’Cause if it is, my magazine will pay.”
“What you talkin’?” the gunman snapped.
“You wanted me, didn’t you?” she said, watching him carefully for a reaction. “This was all about me.”
“Shut the fuck up, bitch.”
She knew she was right. This was no random holdup. They’d targeted her right from the beginning.
Why? Was it something she’d written?
Maybe it had to do with the exposé she’d had published on L.A. call girls a few months back, an explosive, raw piece that had been bought by an independent producer to develop as a movie.
Could that be it? Unlikely. But anything was possible.
She took a long, deep, life-affirming breath, trying to ignore the fact that she was tired, hungry, and thirsty, and that the unbearably loud rap music was assaulting her ears. Stay alert. Stay alive.
She hoped Cole, Natalie, and the other two hostages were okay.
The horror of the night was beginning to get to her. Three people possibly dead.
God! This was more than a nightmare, this was devastating.
Over the years Michael had not forgotten his friends. Gus was one of them. He’d helped Gus with his investments, and in return Gus was ready to do anything he wanted. Loyalty counted.
He’d filled Gus in on the situation. Gus had a long-standing feud with Bone himself—something to do with stepping on each other’s territory.
“The prick’s an amateur,” Gus informed Michael in the car as they rode to his house. “Him an’ his rinky-dink porno empire. It’ll be my pleasure to put an end to the dumb fuck.”
“I should’ve done it a long time ago,” Michael said, thinking that surprise was on his side. Bone and Mamie would never imagine he’d fly to L.A. They probably thought he’d be hiding from the cops in New York, shivering and shaking because of their dumb-ass threats.
Gus was right. They were amateurs. Did they honestly think they could get away with a carbon copy of Beth’s murder? Any competent lawyer would be able to prove he’d been set up, gun or no gun.
“How many men we using?” he asked.
“Enough to get the job done,” Gus replied. “Mamie and Bone got this estate in Bel-Air with shit security. They won’t know what hit ’em.”
“I want them awake,” Michael said grimly. “I want them to know when I come calling.”
“Whatever you want, you got. Now, what we gonna do about your daughter?”
“Can you find out what’s going on?”
“Done,” Gus said. “I’ll call my connection, get an update on the situation.”
“Thanks, Gus. I appreciate it.”
“Big freakin’ deal. You made me a coupla mill last year. Somehow I got a feelin’ I owe you.”
As Jolie drove along the Strip behind the wheel of Nando’s Ferrari, she noticed a slew of police cars racing in the opposite direction. It crossed her mind that they might be heading to the Manray. Then she
thought, why would they be going there? Payoffs were rife in the city. She was sure Darren and Leroy had things well under control.
She was still mad at Nando. He shouldn’t have exposed her to a place like that. Vincent was right, it was not the kind of business they should even consider getting into. The Castle Hotel and Casino were both doing great, money was plentiful, so jumping into the sleazy side of things was simply being greedy.
She thought about discussing it with Vincent. It seemed like a good idea, because with Vincent to back her, perhaps the two of them could talk some sense into Nando.
On impulse she turned the Ferrari around and, instead of driving home, headed for the hotel.
Dani couldn’t sleep, her mind was in turmoil. Michael and his problems. The story of her life.
And she was always there, forever available, ready to comfort, advise, and pick up the pieces whenever he felt like seeing her. Because there was never a set plan. Michael came and went as he pleased.
Using her.
Vincent’s words.
The most upsetting thing of all was that when Stella had left him, he’d never told her. She’d only found out after Stella’s brutal murder.
Why hadn’t he told her?
Why hadn’t he asked her to marry him so they could finally be together?
Damn! He made love to her and she melted. Was that the basis for a future together?
Marry Dean.
Vincent’s words.
If she married Dean, who genuinely loved her, she’d have to be free of Michael, for she would never cheat on a man she was married to.
It was a momentous decision, and one she probably shouldn’t make while Michael was in trouble. But how else could she expect to be happy?
Mrs. Dean King. It was the only way to guarantee a smooth and happy future.
She’d tell Dean in the morning.
Impatiently waiting for his car outside the hotel, Vincent was surprised to see Jolie drive up in Nando’s Ferrari.
“What are you doing in Nando’s car?” he asked. “You know he doesn’t let anybody drive it.”
“Too bad,” she said, getting out and tossing the keys to a valet. “You won’t believe where I’m coming from.”
“Where?”
“The Manray.”
He knew this was not good news. “Want to tell me about it?”
“I will.” She looked around. “Where’s Jenna?”
“Over at the Mirage, trapped in a suite with that movie asshole.”
“You mean Andy Dale?”
“Is there another movie asshole on the prowl tonight?”
“I’m so sorry,” she said, placing a sympathetic hand on his arm.
“Don’t be sorry,” he said edgily. “I’ve recently come to the conclusion that I made a big mistake marrying Jenna.”
“Really?”
“She’s way too young.”
“I never thought I’d say this,” Jolie ventured, “but you’re right. Jenna is very immature.”
“Don’t you think I know that?”
“Listen,” Jolie said warmly. “I can tell that you’re pissed off. I am too. So why don’t we go inside and have a drink at the bar?”
“I don’t know,” he said unsurely. “Jenna was crying on the phone. I’m supposed to be getting her.”
“What you should be doing, Vincent,” Jolie said firmly, “is teaching her that she cannot behave like this. If she’s dumb enough to go to his suite, then she should be ready to accept the consequences.”
“This is the second time tonight,” he complained. “The first time I dragged her out of a Jacuzzi half naked.”
Jolie shook her head as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “That is not good behavior.”
“I know,” he agreed, mesmerized by her catlike, amber eyes.
“Come on,” she said briskly. “You and I are getting a drink. We both need it.”
Why hadn’t he married a woman like Jolie, instead of a kid like Jenna? She was certainly more his style.
Madison realized that the Cadillac was heading away from downtown and back in the direction of Santa Monica. She could just about make out the street signs.
The gunman, totally chilled out on E, was now singing along with Ja Rule. He seemed perfectly content and happy. Stoned, of course. Not as angry as before.
“Who are you working for?” she asked, trying again for any kind of information.
“Man,” he muttered, “I’ll be glad to dump your sorry mothafuckin’ ass.”
“So you’re the errand boy?” she said evenly, refusing to shut up. “Somebody wanted to snatch me, and they used you? Only I bet they didn’t count on people getting killed along the way.”
“Hey—bitch—what makes you think they wanted you?” he asked belligerently.
“It’s obvious,” she replied. “Why dump the other hostages and just take me?”
“Maybe ’cause I was thinkin’ of fuckin’ you,” he said with a lecherous leer.
The young guy in the front with the long, greasy hair and the sharp, pointed nose craned his neck to see how she was taking that piece of information.
She rewarded him with a stony glare.
“Tell you one thing,” the gunman in the back chortled. “The bitch got herself a set of balls.”
“Well,” she said evenly, “that’s more than I can say for you.”
Gus lived in a big, modern house in the Hollywood Hills. It resembled the house that Mel Gibson had managed to destroy in one of the Lethal Weapon movies. Very stark, very white, with large abstract paintings on the walls. The L.A. life obviously suited Gus.
Michael sat on a high bar stool in the all-chrome-and-black kitchen and clicked on the TV. The pretty blond newscaster on Channel Two was still talking about the hostage situation. “Three of the hostages abducted from Mario’s were recently found outside an abandoned building in the industrial area downtown. Well-known radio and TV personality Natalie De Barge was one of them. The hostages were able to give police an accurate description of the three wanted gunmen.”
Christ! Michael thought. Natalie was one of the hostages too.
He picked up the phone and tried her number. She wasn’t there, probably still with the cops. He left his cell phone number on her voice mail.
The newscaster continued her report. “Journalist Madison Castelli is still missing. Lila Hartford, the young woman thrown from the van on the freeway, was rushed to the hospital and is currently undergoing surgery. To sum up, two dead, one seriously injured, and one missing. The rest of the hostages are apparently safe.”
When Gus returned to the kitchen with the same story, Michael said a sharp, “This changes things. I’m not finished with Bone until I know where Madison is.”
“You sure he’s responsible?” Gus asked.
“I’m sure,” Michael said grimly.
“Okay, so what d’you wanna do?”
“Go ahead with the plan.”
“You got it,” Gus said. “The guys are ready. How soon you wanna roll?”
“Now,” Michael said. “Let’s get this done.”
1:30 A.M.
Mamie and Bone had created a monument to bad taste. They called it home. Home was an overbuilt, overdecorated, neoclassical disaster in the hills of Bel-Air. A porno empire translated into mega bucks. Mamie had finally come into her own. The once-impoverished hairdresser from Queens now considered herself the lady of the manor and, as such, had surrounded herself with rooms full of ornate, gilded furniture, elaborate chandeliers, baroque mirrors on every wall, nude paintings of men and women, and a life-size nude bronze sculpture of herself in the grand foyer. She considered her home to be her palace. Two security guards working eight-hour shifts guarded her palace along with two ferocious Dobermans.
In spite of all her riches, Mamie still wanted more. Which is why she’d been so peeved when Michael had refused to acknowledge the money Vito had promised her upon his demise. Not that she cared that much about the
money—she was richer than she’d ever dreamed. But how dare Michael think he could get away with keeping it?
Mamie did not appreciate being crossed, especially by a piece of shit like little Mikey Castellino. Oh yes, he might strut around calling himself Michael Castelli—big businessman with his investments and real estate and shopping centers. But she knew the real truth about his humble beginnings. And she knew how to punish him too.
Years ago he’d narrowly escaped getting convicted for that Cuban slut’s murder. Let’s see him squirm his way out of this mess. It was common knowledge that his wife had left him for a younger man. So who would doubt that a man with such a murky past was responsible for his wife and her young lover’s murder? No question at all when it became known they were both shot with his gun.
And this time there was no Vito with his powerful connections to help out.
Mamie cackled at the thought.
Then, just to torture him further, she’d arranged to have his daughter snatched. He’d hear his precious Madison was gone while sitting in his jail cell, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.
Mamie had plans for Madison. As soon as Serge, her guard, alerted her that Madison was on the premises, the girl would be drugged, and tomorrow she’d be shipped off to a brothel in Pakistan. They paid top dollar for white girls.
Finally she’d gotten Michael back for shooting her beloved cousin Roy. And for being the son of that Italian tramp Vinny had chosen over her. Beth’s murder had never punished him enough. Vengeance all these years later was very sweet.
To celebrate, Mamie had ordered up two exquisite call girls for the night, paying them three thousand bucks each for the pleasure of their company.